


Sleeping at last

by plahstiktaest



Category: DreamSMP, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Jschlatt is a single dad, Schlatt has heart problems oh no, Tubbo's mom dipped when Tubbo was an infant, he's trying his best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:21:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29711556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plahstiktaest/pseuds/plahstiktaest
Summary: Suddenly he’s on the floor and his ears are ringing, horns vibrating, vision doubled. Gabby is shouting louder this time and the man shouts back while Schlatt takes two seconds to process what has just happened, that he’s been whacked in the side of his head with the god damn baseball bat. Quickly he gets to his feet, huffs out hot breath through his nostrils and just barely catches the bat with one hand before it can get his face again. The man is screaming again, the storm outside gets louder, Schlatt’s chest gets tight. Is this really happening just because this guy couldn't be fucking patient? The younger ram hybrid yanks the bat away and glances at a window when a pair of flashing lights stop in the parking lot outside. The bat wiggles free, whizzes through the air and the old man hits Schlatt’s shoulder with it.Schlatt’s phone rings again.
Relationships: only wholesome father and son moments here okay
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	Sleeping at last

**Author's Note:**

> This short work is inspired by a piece of lovely fanart made by @emopythons on instagram! Go check them out, their art is so pretty. (:   
> They gave me permission to write this by the way, so don't worry.  
> You can kind of see near the end how I began to lose quality, but i assure you it's only because i'm tired.   
> Feel free to draw scenes from this, just make sure to credit me!

The air is thick with chatter and outside the earth shakes with damaging thunder. Hands, skinny and calloused, tremble as he tries hard to focus on what he’s trying to do. Familiar as it is, the reoccurring, sharp, stabbing pain in his chest doesn’t fail to make him lose focus. Picks up the wire handle connected to a quartet of fryers bubbling with heat, squints past his exhaustion. Their last customer had ordered far too much too close to closing time. If he had been in charge of that phone call, he would have told them to fuck off and order when it isn’t ten minutes to closing time. But his idiot coworker couldn’t say no to anyone ( but him, apparently) and so here he is, twenty-five minutes past closing time, working on the monstrous order while the idiot out front makes sure that the customer doesn’t steal anything out of rage (it happens more often than he is comfortable with). 

Angry shouting makes him jump, drop the net into the grease and gasp when thick clumps of piping hot grease fly onto his unprotected forearms. Skin melts beneath the accumulations, adrenaline rushes to shield his panicked mind from the pain and he’s already rushing to the nearest rusty sink to take care of his wounds

“ God almighty- fucking christ,- fuck sakes- for fucks-,” he curses swiftly while he walks, turns on the water and exhales shakily at the way the melting skin sizzles beneath a frigid wave of water. Brows furrowed, mouth slightly agape before his teeth are clenched and his gut boils with pent up anger. 

He’s getting a phone call. He leaves it to ring. 

The shouting continues- his coworker stupidly tries to be a pacifist about the situation, he can hear her -and at this point he has definitely had enough. Pulses of ache rush through his skull, into the tips of his horns, into his eye sockets, down to his feet which both feel like they’re about to split in half. He shuts off the water, hands shaking harder, blood pressure rising dangerously high, then with a clenched jaw storms out of the kitchen and into the dim lighting of the dining area. Empty apart from the shouting bearded man across the counter, his deer-in-headlights-coworker, and himself. He can see the man is becoming aggressive- a ram hybrid like himself, it looks like -and at this point he’s just about had it with the stupid bastard. 

“ I’ve had enough. Get out,” Schlatt demands over both of their voices, startling his coworker, Gabby, who doesn’t show an ounce of gratitude at first. 

The older man looks red in the face and spitting mad at the two of them. Schlatt wonder why he would get so worked up over cheap food in the first place. “ You want me to hop over th’fuckin’ counta’?! What’s the big deal, where the fuck’s my god damned food?! How hard’s it to make shit ‘round here?!” 

Gabby clears her throat and speaks up after eyeing Schlatt’s new burns, “ Sir, you ordered enough food for fifteen-” to no avail she tries to reason with the stranger for the upteenth time. 

Before the man can add on to a sexist comment Schlatt had heard him make a few minutes ago, Schlatt shouts over him until he shuts up. 

“ You ordered your god damned food ten minutes before we were 'bout to close, yeah?! All you had to do was sit the fuck down,” he makes gestures with his burned hands, the man stares but doesn’t even seem to be listening, “ wait for your god damn order and then pay when i finished making it. But you-” 

“ Fuck are you staring at, bitch?!” the man screams while leaning over the counter to scream into Gabby’s face with a raised fist, screams insulting gibberish at her. 

The girl is already planning on how hard she’s going to hit back when Schlatt grabs a metal baseball bat from under the counter and roughly pokes the man’s chest with it, makes the man back away. Usually, Schlatt would never escalate the situation that quickly, but with how much pain he’s in and knowing that this motherfucker caused it, he can’t help but feel rightfully pissed off. 

“ You fucking touch that kid and see what happens!” Schlatt promises, makes Gabby turn and scurry away to call the police. While she does, Schlatt grunts as the handle of the bat is jabbed into his gut when the older ram hybrid pushes the bat back towards him. 

“ Police’re comin’.” Gabby announces (most to Schlatt), turns the corner and sucks in a sharp breath when she sees her mentally drained coworker try his hardest not to get himself arrested for assault. 

The old ram hybrid grabs the bat, yanks it forward and tries to hit Schlatt with it. The younger of the two tugs back for a moment to feel the older pull harder- then he releases the bat and watches the man stagger backwards, now consequently armed. While Gabby updates dispatch over the phone on the new shift in the situation, Schlatt stays behind the counter. His focus is to protect himself and his coworker, who is only a twenty year old human. Hands still burn, shake, gut still boils with anger and Schlatt tries his best to keep himself calm. In his pocket his phone rings again. Schlatt looks down at it, glances between the device and the aggressive stranger before he takes it out. His heart drops. It’s the babysitter. There are three missed calls in the last thirty minutes from her. 

Is Tubbo okay? Did something happen? Did she leave the kid there on his own? Would Bernice even do that? 

Suddenly he’s on the floor and his ears are ringing, horns vibrating, vision doubled. Gabby is shouting louder this time and the man shouts back while Schlatt takes two seconds to process what has just happened, that he’s been whacked in the side of his head with the god damn baseball bat. Quickly he gets to his feet, huffs out hot breath through his nostrils and just barely catches the bat with one hand before it can get his face again. The man is screaming again, the storm outside gets louder, Schlatt’s chest gets tight. Is this really happening just because this guy couldn't be fucking patient? The younger ram hybrid yanks the bat away and glances at a window when a pair of flashing lights stop in the parking lot outside. The bat wiggles free, whizzes through the air and the old man hits Schlatt’s shoulder with it. 

Schlatt’s phone rings again.

*****

Pressing charges wasn’t something that Schlatt could afford to do at this point in time. It shocked the officers to learn that someone like Schlatt, a hot headed ram hybrid, hadn’t pummeled the guy the second he had been hit in the gut. It shocked the officers further when he told them that he wouldn’t be holding the bastard accountable. They didn’t ask for any explanations- though they did try and convince him, as did Gabby. 

So it’s just over an hour later and Schlatt is sitting in his car with the windows down, a break in the storm providing refreshing winds for him to drink in before torrents of rain ruin it for him in a few minutes. Shame clouds his senses for a few seconds. Should have defended himself, shouldn’t have stayed behind the counter like an imbecile, should have been a man about the whole thing. Clouds his senses for so long that for the first few rings, he doesn’t hear his phone. When he tunes back into reality his heart jumps. 

“ Shit-” he whispers, scrambling for the device and quickly answering the call before he can give himself time to think of an explanation, “ Bernice- hi- Bernice I’m so sorry-”

The woman on the other end of the call has a right to be as irritated as she is with him. “ I been calling you all night!!”

He feels his stomach jump into his throat with genuine fear, “ Is Tubbo okay??” Schlatt asks her, steadies out his speech for the question. 

She answers ‘yes’. 

“ Okay… Did you… did you call anyone?” He didn’t answer for a long time. He’s bruised, now, and about two hours and fifteen minutes late to come home. He hasn’t contacted the babysitter until now. CPS could take Tubbo away for this, he thinks. Even though Schlatt hasn’t done anything wrong -he’s a wonderful father, Tubbo is a wonderful, smart, perfect child, Schlatt has never once put his needs before Tubbo’s- he’s still so terrified of having his son be taken away. Bernice answers with a steady, knowing ‘no’ and Schlatt feels like he might cry. 

Bernice knows about Schlatt’s situation. She’s been babysitting Tubbo for about six months now and has had experience with broken homes like this. Schlatt had told her once that if he doesn’t answer her calls, he’s just held up at work. Told her that he wouldn’t dare put himself in harm’s way knowing that he has a son to come home to. It warms her heart, it really does, but sometimes she comes so close to calling somebody about this. Schlatt needs a break and Tubbo needs a set of parents that can be there for him during the day, every day, to make sure he’s growing up properly. But when she sees how Schlatt’s tired eyes light up when he hears his son, she can’t bring herself to even think about tearing them apart. He loves the boy more than anything in the world. 

“ Thank you.” Schlatt sighs, closing his eyes while leaning over, resting his forehead against his steering wheel. 

“ What happened to you?” Bernice asks, turning away from the phone to mutter something to a very energetic Tubbo, eager to know who was on the phone. 

Schlatt huffs and shrugs knowing she can’t see him. “ Something came up at work.. it got..” there’s a moment of silence between the two of them and Bernice can hear through it how drained he is clear as day, “ I’m okay… I’ll be there in about twelve minutes, okay? I’ll pick up something for him to eat.” Schlatt had promised Tubbo that morning that he would bring him McDonald’s on his way home from work and doesn’t want to disappoint him like he has the last couple of times where nothing bad happens, Schlatt had just simply forgotten. 

Bernice hesitates. “ Okay… see you then.” 

When she hangs up he turns off his phone, tosses it into the passenger’s seat and cups his face into his glossy, ointment-covered hands. Sits back in his seat, hands slide to his lap and he takes in a shaky breath. Sore eyes open and look up at the ceiling of his car. Whoever had told him that things would get easier, he thinks, is a fat fucking liar. 

*****

The door opens and Schlatt feels, for a moment, peace. The apartment they live in isn’t something to gawk at in a magazine; the building is much too old, the stairs are loud and definitely a safety hazard more often than not, the loud train tracks close by are busy every night (Tubbo claims to enjoy the sound, though, says that he likes trains and doesn’t mind the noise), and the radiator almost never works. It isn’t something that a four -nearly five, Tubbo would be quick to add- year old boy like Tubbo should be living in. 

Bernice is standing up from the small, raggedy couch and getting ready to greet Schlatt when Tubbo races around a corner with wide eyes shouting an enthusiastic greeting. Schlatt’s expression brightens immediately. He kneels down, sets the bag of food on the floor beside him and holds his arms out for the boy. Tubbo throws himself into his father’s embrace. Wraps his tiny arms around Schlatt’s neck and doesn’t catch the soft grunts of pain coming from Schlatt, who, with one arm around his son’s waist, stands up to hold the child against his chest. Minding the horns, Tubbo pulls his face back to look at his father and puts their foreheads together sweetly. 

“ Hi, big guy.” Schlatt rasps the words laced with gentle laughter tenderly. 

The little boy’s ears twitch happily and he wriggles in his father’s hold for a moment before he is able to keep an arm around Schlatt’s neck. “ You were gone for-” the child sucks in a deep breath as if his excitement has left him breathless, “ f-forever!” he puts his temple against a dull part of one of Schlatt’s horns. 

Schlatt feels a pang of guilt stab at his chest again. He hates being away for so long every day, but how else is he supposed to be able to provide for his son on his own? Bernice takes the bag of food by Schlatt’s feet and looks up at him with pursed lips, though she partially masks her disappointment by showing instead fondness for the little boy’s happiness. 

“ An angel as always,” she comments, noticing a dark bruise on Schlatt’s temple beneath his hair which he doesn’t even know is there, “ Had a lot of fun today.” 

“ We drew and-” Schlatt hoists Tubbo up onto his arm so that the boy doesn’t have to hold onto his neck anymore so Tubbo, mid sentence, begins to fiddle with his own fingers nervously, “ and then we went ou’side so we played f…” the boy looks at Bernice, who nods encouragingly. 

“ Football..” she helps him out.

“ Football! A-and i- kept kicking the-the ball really far!” Tubbo looks to his father for approval. 

Schlatt could listen to Tubbo’s little stories for hours. Before he had Tubbo, he couldn’t stand children. Biased as it is, Schlatt understands all the typical child-like gibberish that Tubbo splutters, all the words his mushy, stupid little child’s brain tries its hardest to make work, all the things that people would have to ask Schlatt to translate (including Bernice, sometimes). Schlatt’s bicep begins to quiver under the weight of Tubbo’s little body, too tired to hold the child for long. 

“ Wow, buddy! That sounds like fun,” Schlatt replies, but wants to save everyone some time so he adds more before Tubbo can start rambling again, “ Hey- why don’t you say bye to Bernice and then take your food to the table and eat, okay?”

The boy does exactly that, his goodbye to the woman rushed and absentminded when all of his focus is targeted at the happy meal that awaits him in the bag. Schlatt watches him scurry off. When the child is out of earshot, he sighs. Bernice frowns. 

“ You look bad,” she says. 

Schlatt looks down at her. “ You trying t’woo me, Bernice?” he asks her jokingly. 

She shakes her head with a half-assed grin and walks to the little coffee table where she has kept her purse and coat that she puts on smoothly before swinging her purse onto her shoulder. “ I can’t keep staying overtime for you,” she begins, “ I know you have a lot to handle, okay- I understand that. But I have my own children to get home to. I can’t leave my husband to deal with them by himself.” 

Schlatt nods gingerly in understanding while he flips through his wallet for her payment, wanting her to get out of his apartment as soon as possible so he can spend a little more time with his son. He’s heard this before, anyways. Bernice stops in front of him with her back to the door and takes the cash. Her expression reads disappointment and Schlatt ignores it completely. 

“ I know. It won’t happen again,” He tells her, lying, pocketing his thin wallet. 

“ Mmhm..” Bernice looks him up and down for a moment while she opens the door, the cash already in her coat pocket, “ That’s what you said the last couple times.” 

*****

Tubbo’s feet swing while he hums, his eyes alight with satisfaction while he grabs his juice box and tilts his head side to side to the beat of whatever song is playing in his head at the moment. Scratches at the band-aid plastered over a small scrape he had gotten earlier that day when he fell over at the park, then grabs another chicken nugget. Schlatt’s already taking a shower even though the hot water ran out a few hours ago. Wants to get the grease and sweat out of his skin so that he doesn’t stink up their entire apartment or give Tubbo a rash somehow ( he’s always afraid of getting the kid sick and even though he’s trying his best, sometimes his concerns are just plain stupid, but he’s never been a father before). When he comes out of the bathroom in a clean pair of black basketball shorts and a comfortable dark red t-shirt, he can hear Tubbo lazily singing a song in the kitchen. The hallway light makes him squint- leaves a sharp, burning, pulsating pain rush through his skull to the tips of his horns again -and so Schlatt turns to his bedroom while dragging his feet. 

Opens a drawer in his nightstand, takes out a bottle of red wine and sighs softly through his nose.

The lights, blue and purple and green and hazy, blur out when his world focuses on her. The music is loud and he can feel the vibrations in his feet, his drunken smile not once faltering while she turns to look at him with glossy turquoise eyes. Cheap beer is strong on her breath, she’s been drinking a lot tonight, and when she looks up at him she feels one of his big hands press into the small of her back. They only met a couple of nights ago- he had been needing an escape, somewhere to distract himself from how he’s so fucking doomed and alone and she was the light then, the light now. She laughs and, careful not to spill her drink, puts her arms around his neck and sways her hips. 

Schlatt frowns at the memory, sits on the edge of his bed and opens the bottle. He takes a quick swig, his heart aching for her. 

Their movements are messy, the bodies surrounding them are illuminated by fuzzy lights and he’s too drunk to make out where his friends are. They’ve left, he thinks, and when she notices that his attention has strayed from herself she playfully grabs him by one of his horns to make him look down at her. He puts pressure on her back with his hand steadily, she looks at his lips and without thinking twice he kisses her. Still holding one of his horns, she kisses him back and their eyes close. Schlatt doesn't remember feeling this happy in a long, long time.

He rests the bottle on his knee and looks down at the floor. She was a bitch, she hurt him and now he misses her. Schlatt takes another swig and, right when he takes the drink from his lips, decides that there’s no harm in numbing his migraine in a snap. So he begins to chug down as much as he can at once, only stopping when Tubbo’s sudden appearance makes him nearly choke. 

He wipes his chin and rests the bottle on his knee again, huffs a rough breath, looks at the child with a nervous smile. “ Tub- you scared me, buddy, what’s- what’s going on?” One of his ears twitch in response to a distant ensemble of rolling thunder. 

“ I finished my food,” Tubbo replies as he walks into the room, climbs onto his father's bed clumsily and sits on his knees waiting for something. 

“ Oh, okay.. did…” Schlatt adores his son. Truly, he does. But sometimes, he doesn’t know how to talk to him. Sometimes, they end up sitting in silence until one of them finds something else to point out and speak about. Schlatt nods hesitantly, looks down at his drink, then slowly looks at his son again, “ Did you… throw your trash away..?” Tubbo shakes his head and Schlatt blinks. “ Well…” 

Sensing his father is having a little bit of trouble with the conversation, Tubbo perks up his fluffy little ears and rubs at one of his stubby little horns. “ Can- can we watch somethin’?” 

Schlatt winces when he turns his head too quickly back to Tubbo but nods gingerly. “ Yeah, sure- I- yeah, we can do that.” Deciding that he can just clean up the trash tomorrow, Schlatt begins to stand up on weak legs and exhales relief when his back pops unexpectedly. 

“ I’m gonna go turn off the lights. You get comfortable.” Schlatt takes the wine with him, ruffles Tubbo’s hair as he passes by and notices how his son winces at the contact. 

When he comes back into his bedroom, the lights in the apartment turned off and the door locked, Tubbo is sat against the headboard in a mound of pillows rubbing at his scalp and scratching lazily at his horns. Schlatt, understanding, slowly closes his bedroom door behind him and walks to sit beside his son. 

“ Don’t scratch ‘em too much, you’ll make it worse.” Schlatt advises while he hands the child a small bee, Tubbo’s favorite stuffed animal. 

The boy begrudgingly takes his hands off of his silver horns and instead holds the toy in his soft little hands, messing with the wings while Schlatt looks for something to put on the television. He doesn’t know what would be appropriate for the kid (well, he does, but not entirely, all he knows in this moment is that he doesn’t want to put on something downright annoying), but when a laid back nature documentary pops up on the screen Tubbo leans towards the television and Schlatt notices the kid’s interest. Without another word spoken he sets the remote onto his chipped nightstand and takes another large swig from his drink, leans back into his pillows and winces at every sharp bite of pain he feels. 

A few minutes pass by and Tubbo is yet again scratching at his horns, tugs on them a little, whines to himself while his other arm squeezes the stuffed bee against his little ribcage. Schlatt ignored the shuffling for a few more minutes. Finally, he lifts his head from his pillow. 

“ What’s the matter?” he asks, only slightly annoyed. 

One of Tubbo’s pierced ears flick back in acknowledgement but the child doesn’t turn around to face his father. Too occupied with the foreign ache in his skull, Tubbo whines again and tries his hardest to keep watching the television. Schlatt furrows his brows. After a couple moments of contemplation, Schlatt runs his calloused fingers through his son’s dark brown hair and takes another swig. The pads of his fingers press on Tubbo's scalp trying to massage away the pain slowly. The little boy’s hands hesitantly leave his head, holds the bee instead and tilts his head back ever so slightly to press into the palm of Schlatt’s hand. Schlatt smiles softly, shifts in place so that he can rub Tubbo’s head while still propped comfortably against a couple pillows. 

Thirty minutes pass and Schlatt’s eyes are beginning to feel heavy. The only thing keeping him awake is the thought of how his son’s head might ache if he stops running his fingers through his soft brown hair. His movements become slow, rhythmically lazy and soon, his eyes close. Even then his hand still moves, still rubs gentle circles to the back of Tubbo’s head with his thumb and massages the pads of his fingers into the space between those pesky horns. 

Schlatt drifts in and out of sleep. Tubbo watches closely while a wolf and her pups trot through a rainy spruce forest. The storm outside calms, finally, to a gentle rain shower. Tubbo hadn't noticed how his father’s hand had stilled atop his head until it slid off onto his shoulders and dropped to the spot on the bed by one of his legs. Even then, Tubbo stubbornly kept his eyes glued to the screen for a moment longer, only turning to his father when he sees the mother wolf reunite with one of her lost pups. 

“ Papa, loo-” he starts, his smile dropping when he sees his father is fast asleep. 

Fluffy tufts of hair fall over one of Schlatt’s eyes, his mouth is slightly parted and his chest rises and falls slowly with each gentle breath he takes. Tubbo contemplates waking him up for a moment, but when the boy crawls closer and looks at his father’s face, he can’t bring himself to do such a thing. Tiny hands reach out to tuck away the tufts of hair that had flopped into Schlatt’s face. They caress Schlatt’s cheek lovingly and Tubbo nestles into the crook of his fathers arm against his side. Wanting to be held, he takes Schlatt’s hand and brings it over his own tiny chest. Only then does he notice the burns and bruises. 

The little boy furrows his brows with confusion. He’s never seen burns before. His petite index finger traces the fresh wounds carefully, eyes now fixated on the painful sight. His father stirs beside him. 

“ ….What’re y’doin’, kiddo?” Schlatt croaks, though he’s barely conscious at this point, body unable to go a minute longer without some rest. 

Tubbo feels guilty for some reason and his cheeks flush. “ No…” he trails off, avoids eye contact. 

Schlatt begrudgingly sits up, takes another swig and then sets the bottle of wine onto his nightstand. Bleary eyes look down at Tubbo and his shy face. Schlatt plants a half-awake kiss to the top of his son’s head. “No?”Schlatt, amused by his answer, tilts his head to the side a little. 

His son gently holds his hand like he’s afraid he might break it. Schlatt tries to blink sleep out of his eyes, fails, then moves his hand so that they can both see the burns better in the light of the television. “ Oh.. ‘s from work,” he shrugs, obviously not wanting to go into detail about what had happened, “ Your dad wasn’t careful with the stove,” At Least he can use this as a learning experience for his son. 

While Tubbo looks down at his hand again to mess with one of the bruises, Schlatt puts his head back and sighs slowly through his nose, his eyes blinking slowly when he feels himself about to fall asleep again. Tubbo recognizes this almost immediately, his droopy ears angled backwards in thought while Schlatt uses his thumb to rub tiny circles into the palm of one of Tubbo’s little hands. 

Tubbo grabs his dad’s fingers and looks up at him again, this time with understanding. “ Let’s go sleep,” he tells him, grabbing one corner of the blanket for himself -and his beloved bee, of course. When he feels comfortable enough against his father’s side he looks up and sees that Schlatt is already asleep again, head tilted down towards Tubbo comfortably. The little boy holds his father’s hand close, gives a kiss to Schlatt’s wrist in hopes of making it feel better (just like his father does for him when he gets a scrape on his knee or a bad bruise on his arm from climbing trees), and falls asleep seconds later.


End file.
